


before the beginning of space and time

by areyoumarriedriver



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-18
Updated: 2012-09-18
Packaged: 2017-11-14 12:38:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/515317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/areyoumarriedriver/pseuds/areyoumarriedriver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She glances down at her black dress and coat with a grimace, she feels like the whole white to black thing was a touch of overkill, but oh, trust the Doctor to have such a narrow view of her at this point in his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	before the beginning of space and time

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Birthday to my best girl Brit - without whom I'd never have ever watched this show, or a lot of shows, and I sort of weep to think about it tbh. I love you darling girl, you have made my life so much better in so many ways, happy birthday :)

**_before the beginning of space and time_ **

She wakes with a splitting headache, and far too much information shoved into her brain, and an aged blank diary next to her that she just knows is supposed to be full or stories, full of adventures, full of shadows. As she struggles to sit up she frowns down at the heavy black fur coat she is wearing – it is the middle of June for heaven’s sakes, and the-

The middle of June. _The middle of June_?

River blinks in the bright sunshine and stands, brushing blades of grass from her black coat and unbuttoning it to let the slight breeze cool her down as she glances around. She recognises where she is, of course. Leadworth park – lord knows she’s run through here enough times to know its every nook and cranny by heart. How often had she spent crouched in these bushes as Mels, hearts racing and adrenaline pumping as security officers ran right by her?

“Okay, think River,” she speaks to herself softly as she bends to pick up her diary. “Why are you _blank_? Did the Library erase you? Am I still in the Library? Charlotte?” She raises her voice a bit as she stumbles out onto the path and into Mrs. Angelo.

“Oh sorry dear, hello. Are you looking for your daughter?” Mrs. Angelo eyes her with curiosity and River fights to pin a welcoming smile on her face. Jeff’s grandmother – god she’d hated her as Mels. So nosey and into _everything_.

“No, no, I’m sorry – not my daughter my – uh – my dog. I’ve lost her.” River scrambles for a plausible explanation as her mind races ahead. She’d never written a word about Mrs. Angelo in her diary, not once, not ever. How could the Library have recreated this?

“You’re dressed awfully nicely for walking your dog,” Mrs. Angelo observes dubiously. “Are you here for the wedding? Do you know the Ponds or the Williams’?” River takes a breath to brush the old woman off, but pauses, her words sinking in. The wedding. Her _parents’_ wedding. Oh god – oh – god what had Amy told her the summer after they’d lost Melody?

As Mels she’d spent an awful lot of time trying to coax Amy out of the house any way she could. She’d found Amy’s mourning incredibly frustrating, young and foolish as she’d been back then – she remembered tuning Amy out a lot, overwrought with her own desire to simply stand there and scream ‘ _here I am if you want your daughter so badly’_. Patience had never been her strong suit in that incarnation. Then again, neither had impulse control, so she’d been rather proud of herself for managing to _not_ tell Amy everything.

The wedding, the wedding – Amy had berated her for not going ( _I’m not into weddings, Amy, you know that! Boring!)_ and had told her she’d missed the Doctor. _I brought him back Mels. I remembered him – something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue._

River frowns at Mrs. Angelo who is staring at her like she is insane, which to be fair, she probably appears to be. “What? Sorry – yes. The Williams’ actually – I’m not from here, and I seem to have lost my invitation...”

“ _And_ your dog _?”_ Mrs. Angelo’s eyes narrow as she huffs and lifts her brows. “Who brings their dog to a wedding?”

“No children you see,” River smiles tightly at the old woman. “I take her everywhere with me.”

“Yes, well, I can see how important she is to you, clearly,” Mrs. Angelo observes drily and River grits her teeth. Some things of Mels’ she’s carried over, clearly, and her still intense dislike of this woman was one of them obviously. She smiles blandly at the woman, and reaches forward, shaking her hand.

“I was distracted by the invitation you see. I’m not worried about Charlotte – she’ll come when I call her, she always does, you know. I can’t _quite_ remember the church address – I don’t suppose you know of it?”

“Of course I do – I’ll be attending myself. I watched little Amelia grow up you know. I always thought my grandson Jeff fancied her, of course, but I suppose things turn out as they will. Rory’s a good sort of boy too.” Mrs. Angelo waves dismissively as she speaks and River grinds her back teeth together.

“Rory’s an _excellent_ sort of _man_. One of the best I know,” she points out mildly, with a strained smile.

“Oh yes, yes of course,” Mrs. Angelo hastens to add. “You’re related – of course. The church is just in the main square – not four blocks from here if you exit here, and then go right. You can’t miss it.”

“Thanks, _ever_ so much,” River smiles falsely and moves past the old woman, stumbling across the grass in her haste.  She doesn’t even feel badly at all as she pins the brooch she’d nicked from Mrs. Angelo’s bag to her lapel with a grin. She nearly trips in her distraction again, “Damn shoes,” she mutters. They’re yet another anomaly, but River is quickly beginning to figure things out.  She is sure that the last time she’d seen these shoes, they’d been tucked under the TARDIS console amidst bits of wire, where she’d left them. Just before the Byzantium. The last thing she remembered was dying, and then a whole lot of not living in the computer core of the largest database in the universe.

As afterlives go, it wasn’t the worst, she supposes. But if it is Amy and Rory’s wedding day, that means they’re at the Pandorica – “Big bang two, oh you idiotic absolute utter _genius_.” She remembers his voice well, wired into the perfect prison as he whispered to her about rebooting the whole universe – all from a memory.

 _His memory_.

And she was a part of that.  She glances down at her black dress and coat with a grimace, she feels like the whole white to black thing was a touch of overkill, but oh, trust the Doctor to have such a narrow view of her at this point in his life.

He’d remembered her back into existence, and she didn’t know what that _meant_ exactly, except that this was Leadworth and she was _alive_ and she could see her parents, one last time.

And what a better day to do it on?

She wanders over to the church, hoping to sort out a good spot to hide but still be able to see. She’s just decided on the choral balcony, when Rory walks into the church, fully dressed in his morning suit and River stops, catching her breath. She beams at him and he frowns in confusion – of course he doesn’t remember her. He’s only met her once regardless, but they’re all – none of them remember the Doctor.

“Hello,” she smiles and speaks softly, tears unexpectedly coming to her eyes.

“Um, hello,” Rory waves awkwardly and River’s smile increases. He’s just never ever changed – and it is one of the things she loves so very _dearly_ about him. “Are you quite alright? You look a bit upset.”

She swallows as he asks, just like he always asks – every single time, if he knows her or not – he’s always somehow _known_ when she is upset, and he always asks. It brings a bit of a lump to her throat and she struggles to keep her emotions in check.

Only she’s _missed_ her parents, so very much.

She knows they lived happy lives, she _knows_ that. She’s spent countless hours with them, on the TARDIS, here in Leadworth, at their house, and in Manhattan – afterward. But everyone runs out of time in comparison to hers, and she thought she’d never see them again. “Oh no, I’m quite alright, thank you. Just – weddings, you know. Amy’s – um, I was wondering if you could give her something for me? It’s a bit ridiculous, and old, I know – but something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue, right? This is a bit of all four.” She hands him her diary and he takes it with a frown.

“Will you not give it to her yourself? How do you know Amy?”

“Oh I knew her when she was a girl,” River lies with the truth, easily. “And I would – I would give it to her, only I’m only here for the ceremony – I’ve got to leave right after and I’m afraid there won’t be time to say hello. I’d really appreciate it if you’d pass that along for me. I should actually – I’ve got to run, a few calls to make before the ceremony.  Best wishes to you both, Rory. And thank you, again,” River hugs him impulsively – she almost can’t help it, squeezing him briefly before she moves past him quickly, ignoring his response.

“But I don’t even know your name?”

She disappears with ease, because she’s good at it, and less than an hour later, she watches quietly as her parents pledge to love each other – _always_. It’s engraved on the inside of the band her father slides on to her mother’s finger, she knows. And she’s quite happy that she is alone, and in hiding, because she doesn’t think she’s ever cried so much in her life, but she watches them and positively _bursts_ with the strength of their love, so viscerally displayed in front of her as they kiss and church bells ring out.

She takes a moment to gather herself, waits until everyone is gone and ducks into the washrooms to wash her face and tidy herself up. She cuts through the churchyard as she walks out – dangerous she knows, but she’s just a stranger to them and she is selfish and greedy. She wants to _see_ them, one last time.

Amy meets her eyes as she walks past the window and River smiles at the expression of shock on her face, her fingers curled around a familiar blue book.

She is remembering.

She waits, just at the edge of the courtyard, as the wind picks up and she hears the gorgeous groaning of his ship. She’s not quite sure what to do now – except perhaps she can get the Doctor to drop her off afterward. She doesn’t go into the reception hall, even though they would know her now. She wants that church – that joy, that kiss to be her strongest memory. Oh she could go to the reception hall, but the Doctor has this way of taking over memories like that and she wants this one – just for herself.

So instead she goes to Amy’s childhood home and stands in the garden, looking up at the house and remembering – so many memories, so many nights spent there, curled under the covers with Amy and a torch and her roman history books. The TARDIS is parked there and she smoothes a hand across the bright blue frame as the ship sings joyfully in her mind. River smiles, leaning forward to press a kiss against the wood. “He did it and he doesn’t even know, does he dear?” She whispers to the ship who hums, high-pitched in her mind. She presses her forehead against the frame, opening her mind and asking the TARDIS when and where she should go. An image forms in her mind and River sighs softly. “Nostalgic idiot,” she murmurs, but her chest aches at the thought of it.

She’s not sure how long she stands there, linked to the TARDIS before a noise startles her, humming – and she ducks behind the hedges and watches as he swaggers into the garden, a crooked half smile and her diary tucked under his arm. “Did you dance? Well, you always dance at weddings, don’t you?” she steps out and he swings around with an amused smile. Her grin widens – oh god, his face is precious to her and she feels like it has been _far_ too long since she has seen it.

“I don’t know, you tell me,” he gestures widely and she smiles at him, he is so very clueless this young, bless.

“Spoilers,” she teases as she steps closer and she can hear his irritated huff of annoyance. When he moves closer he hands her the diary with an amused expression.

“Writing’s all back, but I didn’t peek,” he tells her and she smiles her thanks as he hands her a Vortex manipulator as well. Her fingers brush against his as she takes it and he smiles brightly – no need to ask for a ride then, she can just get to his future on her own.

“Thank you,” she tells him seriously and he looks at her intently, causing a shiver to pass through her as she straps the manipulator to her wrist. The weight of his gaze causes her to meet his eyes, smiling up at him.

“Are you married, River?” he finally asks hesitantly and she feels her hearts leap in her chest as she looks at him, memories of wedding after wedding after wedding floating through her mind, but none so much as that first one. Twilight atop a pyramid in a timeline that never existed. But the memories remained, for them.

So though she knows it is spoilers, she smiles as she looks up at him flirtatiously. “Are you asking?”

“Yes,” his response is instant and she smiles wider.

“Yes.”

He smiles for a half a second before he frowns in confusion. “No wait, did you think I was asking _if_ you were married or – or asking you to marry me?”

“Yes,” she grins as she responds vaguely and he stares at her for a beat.

“No but was that yes, or _yes_?”

“ _Yes_ ,” she leans forward a bit as she breathes the answer out, frustrating him and amusing herself endlessly. She realises that this is it – the last time she will see him like this, confuse him like this, _tease_ him like this. Her hearts lift as he sighs softly.

“River,” he breathes her name out and her hearts clench in her chest because he says it the same, always. Like it is more than her name, it is an oath, an epitaph, a swear and a prayer, all in one. “Who are you?”

She looks up at him, the breeze pulling curls across her face as she taps coordinates into her manipulator. “You’re going to find out very soon now,” she says finally, her voice soft. Knowing what she knows now – how her death must have haunted him. Her poor Doctor, but how it must have informed him as well. He looks at her in surprise and she continues, “and I’m sorry, but that’s when everything changes.” She presses the button before she can think about it too much – with him right in front of her it is difficult to leave. Difficult not to leap into his arms and tell him – he saved her. She is _alive_ and _he_ did that. All with a memory. But she cannot – he needs to carry on thinking that she died and was uploaded into a sort of afterlife. He has to think that because everything about them is so woven into every other part. If he doesn’t hand her that screwdriver, if he doesn’t say goodbye and cry as he kisses her under soaring towers, if she doesn’t take that with her, give him that option to save her, lighten that weight upon his soul, give him that hope – they are a snake, eating its own tail.

But now, oh now it is time for all that to stop.

She materializes into bright sunshine, on a rooftop – or, more accurately, the top of an extremely large bookshelf. Ahead she can see the TARDIS, and just beyond that, leaning against the railing, shoulders slumped as he stares at the vast planet of books upon books upon books, is her Doctor.

His head is bare, but his purple greatcoat is fluttering around his knees in the breeze. She barely manages to contain herself from running over, instead walking slowly, her heels clicking loudly on the concrete below them. He stands at the noise, turning around slowly, and _oh_ but his expression upon seeing her is priceless. He gapes at her in pure shock, and she smiles brightly, joy bursting forth as she looks at him.

“Hello, sweetie.”

He doesn’t move at all, and she knows his mind is racing – how can she be _here_? A younger version of her would never know to come here, and he swallows as he eyes her nervously. “Ri-” he chokes a bit before clearing his throat and closing his eyes tightly. She slips out of her shoes and moves closer while he does so, and when he opens them again, clearly expecting thin air, he starts to see her standing right in front of him. “River?”

“Oh, my love, why would you come back _here_? This is not how we mourn, sweetie,” she speaks softly and he frowns, shaking his head in stubborn disbelief.

“How do we mourn then, River? I come here once a year. Just once – always have done you know – since – even when you were still around. I come back here, and I stand for an hour and I remember. Well, I _used_ to stand for an hour. After you were gone – I stay as long as the daylight allows me. I don’t – I don’t want to forget,” he whispers the words, glancing away with a tell-tale sheen in his eyes and she frowns, shocked by how easily he has accepted her presence and his lack of reaction to her. “I suppose you being here is a bit of a sign though, hmm? Mad old man, am I, huh?”

She stares up at him, suddenly understanding. “You think I’m not real,” she finally speaks softly and he frowns down at her in confusion.

“You can’t be real, River,” he whispers brokenly, his hand lifting and hovering over her hair before it drops back to his side as tears fill his eyes. “You’re a ghost.”

“Oh sweetie,” she swallows heavily and looks at him gently. “How long has it been for you?”

“Years, River. I said goodbye to you- oh, I don’t know – ages ago is seems. Nearly a hundred, I’d think. I should probably give this face up, eh? But it was yours, wasn’t it? I was yours and you were mine and I’m just... not ready yet. Not _just_ yet. But I forget some mornings. I wake up and can’t quite – can’t quite remember what you smell like, or if I found all your hair in my face in the mornings annoying or amazing. Your laughter sounds wrong in my memories, or your smile looks a touch off. I’m so very old, River,” his voice shakes and he sniffles a bit as she watches him, tears in her own eyes. “I’m imagining you, just to stay sane. Ha! Oh but it’s brilliant, look at you – you look just the same,” he stares at her with a half grin and he smiles.  “River Song, my wife. Look at you. I thought I’d forgotten but here you are – and I haven’t, have I? That half-smile, your voice, I can even –” he sways in closer and inhales deeply. “It’s perfect. How could I think I’d ever forget?”

“Oh, _honey_ ,” she breathes the words out and finally, she reaches for him, pressing shaking hands against his face as his eyes snap to hers. “Auditory and visual hallucinations are common, sweetie, but when have you _ever_ heard of olfactory hallucination? Or sensory? You can feel me, smell me, taste me – I’m _here_.” She moves in then, and stands on her tip toes, pressing her mouth against his and kissing him softly as she stands within her arms, still as stone. She kisses him over and over again, his mouth, his chin, his nose, his cheeks, kisses scattered across his face as he stands there, disbelieving.

“It isn’t possible,” he whispers and she kisses him once more, and he leans into her, just a touch, kissing her back. “It isn’t,” he breathes against her lips as he kisses _her_ this time, his hands lifting to her waist as his mouth opens over hers, his tongue brushing against her lower lip. She wastes no time, opening her mouth and sucking his tongue into her mouth greedily, curling her own around it as he whimpers, his hands tightening on her as he kisses her back.

Even he is breathing heavily when they break apart again and she takes his face in her hands and looks up at him. “You idiot,” she smiles fondly and shakes her head. “You reset the _entire universe_ Doctor. All of it. All of it – all from your memory. What were you thinking about as you flew up into those stars?”

He stares at her in shock, his eyes widening as he glances down at her outfit. “ _River_ ,” he breathes out in shock, his breath stuttering in his lungs as he looks back up at her quickly. “Amy – Amy’s _family_. I wanted Amy’s family back.”

“And here I am,” she smiles up at him as his eyes shut. He opens them again quickly, shaking his head.

“I didn’t know that then,” he points out, shaking his head.

“You flew into an exploding TARDIS my love. You didn’t know that, no, _but she did_.” The tears finally fall as she looks up at him and he begins to shake in her arms. His own tears fall and she pulls him into her arms, hugging him tightly. His arms wrap around her slowly, his face burying itself in her hair as she rubs circles across his back.

Soon he is holding her so tightly she can barely breathe, and he pulls back, laughing and sobbing at the same time. He runs his fingers through her hair; his hands shake as he strokes them along her face, staring down at her in wonder. “River, oh River, River, River – is it really?” His hands push at her heavy coat, pulling it from her body until it drops to the concrete behind them. The sunlight is warm on her skin and she smiles up at him as his hands run down over her shoulders, along her ribs and waist and hips. “Is it you?”

“I hit you – I punched you and god you really couldn’t take a good punch in that body, could you? Knocked you right out. And I prayed the whole time – the entire time – that you just wouldn’t wake up. You’d just sleep through it. But of course you didn’t. And you had to watch that and I’m sorry, my love, I am so so sorry you had to carry that with you,” she cries as her hands stroke along his shirtfront, over his waistcoat as his hands travel back up to slide under her chin. “I never wanted that for you, Doctor. I never did,” she shakes her head and he nods.

“I wouldn’t have changed a thing, River. I could love you more because of it you know. No fear of loss. We were just forever in that sense. And I do – I love you so much, River.” He kisses her then, his hands still trembling as they stroke along her skin – his whole frame shaking as she pulls him against her. And god he feels _amazing_ – his hearts above her own. His tongue strokes against hers and her hands move, suddenly shaking and desperate to _touch him_. She pushes his coat off first, unbuttoning his waistcoat with ease and removing that too. His own hands stroke along her back, pulling her into him further as they both moan. She yanks his bowtie loose, wrapping it around her fist tightly as she continues, unbuttoning his shirt until her hands can reach his skin and she sighs in content.

His mouth moves, sliding down her throat, kissing and biting as she hums and moans eagerly. “I’m never leaving you, ever again, I swear,” she promises, her hearts aching at the thought of a hundred years – a _hundred_ years, oh her poor Doctor. She strips him of his braces, and then his shirt. His own hands have inched down to her thighs, inching her skirt up and up and up until he can grasp his hands around the hem. He pauses just long enough to lean back and pull it over her head, tossing it aside. His palms skim over her skin as he stares down at her, his eyes glittering and his skin flushed.

“Promise?” his voice is still shaking and she coos, pressing herself against him until his skin is over hers and she can feel the beating of his hearts, in tandem with her own.

“I promise, Doctor,” she vows seriously, her hands stroking at his hair – still floppy, unmanageable and brown, but there is silver shot through it now and she smiles. “Look at that, you might even pass for suitably aged for me now, bless.”

“You like it?” he grins, preening a bit as she laughs. Only he could be vain about grey hair.

“Very sexy, sweetie,” she agrees with a grin and he smiled, his hands warm on her back as he undoes the clasp on her bra, sliding it down her arms as he backs away a bit, just enough to lower his head and scattered soft kisses across her clavicle and chest, before he bends down and draws the tip on one breast into his mouth, sucking hard enough that she cries out, her hands clenching in his hair. “Doctor!”

His hands stroke down over her stomach and hips, sliding into her knickers as she gasps, her knees suddenly weak as his long fingers slide against her slick, over-sensitized skin. He shuffles a bit awkwardly before they are both sinking to the ground, and when her back hits not hard concrete, but the smooth silk lining of her coat and his, she hums. He continues to kiss her, his tongue swirling between her breasts, over the bumps of her rib cage, down into her stomach and licking at her hips. She lays beneath him, panting and squinting against the setting sun as he bypasses where she wants him most, instead kissing his way down the insides of her thighs, licking behind her knee, dropping kisses along her shins, her feet, the arch of her soles.

She shivers in the cooling air, reaching for him as he moves slowly back up, his hands hooking under the waistband of her knickers as he drags them down her legs. She is desperate for him at this point, her arms reaching to thread through his hair as her hips lift and tilt toward him in supplication.  “ _Please_ ,” she whimpers in a low voice and he kisses her there, his tongue sliding along the swollen folds as she gasps, tensing up below him. He chuckles into her skin, licking at her desperately, like a starving man at a feast, he is everywhere at once. His tongue within her, his hands stroking along every spare inch of skin he can reach and she arches underneath him, still aching for more.

Suddenly she is gripped by the desperation to not come until he is right there with her. Ridiculous as it seems, she doesn’t want to ever be without him, not even in this. She pulls at his hair, tugging him back up over her body. “No, no, no – trousers off, _right now_ ,” she commands, her hands slipping between them to unbutton the front panel of them and shove them down his slim hips. “I _need_ you – Doctor – I need you to be right there. With me. Please, sweetie,” she begs prettily and he moans, surging forward to kiss her as she wraps her legs around his waist. She tastes herself on his tongue and she moans, angling their hips until he slides within her. He groans, stilling and she pulls back to look up at him, the sky brilliantly pink and red behind him. “I love you,” she speaks in a hushed tone, her eyes locking on to his. “So much, more than my own life. Even death couldn’t keep us apart, my love.”

He swallows, choking back a sob as he buries his face by her neck and she tightens her legs around him as he begins to move within her. Each stroke feels like homecoming, and she fights back tears as she clutches at his shoulders, pressing kisses to his hair and face and mouth when she can, their tears mingling as his cheek presses against hers and his hips move faster.

When they fly over the edge together, she thinks they might leave bruises with how hard they are holding on to one another, but she doesn’t care as she cries out his name, her body tightening around his as he presses down into her.

Afterward they lay together, reluctant to separate and move as their hearts race over each other’s. “I still can’t believe this,” he whispers brokenly into her hair, kissing her temple gently, his voice still thick with tears.

“Neither can I, my love,” she agrees.

He sniffles slightly, and she turns her face, kissing him gently. “Us properly together? Always?” he seeks reassurance again and she nods, thinking of her parents that afternoon, promising each other the same thing.

She’s been all over their lives, all over their time streams, she’d even been able to be there with them in Syracuse where they’d retired, sleeping just down the hall the night they’d both passed away. Always onward to the next adventure – together. She sniffles, her eyes filling with tears as she looks up at him. “Always,” she promises him and he smiles, his teeth bright against the approaching darkness. She frowns, before her hearts jump and she gasps. “Doctor!”

“What?” he frowns and glances around his own eyes wandering. “Oh, stupid, stupid us! Come on River,” he hauls them to their feet, pulling his trousers up as he grabs her hand.

“My clothes!” she calls out and he laughs, pulling her toward the TARDIS as long, hungry shadows lick their way across the roof.

“I like them better where they are,” he laughs over his shoulder as he fumbles with his key, both of them pressed against the TARDIS doors.

“But my diary!” She twirls and he reaches out, snagging her arm and hauling her back as the doors open and he pulls her inside, shutting them. “Doctor – my diary!”

“River, River – shhh,” he hugs her against him as he pulls back and looks down at her, kissing her warmly.  She blinks up at him, her hands pressing against his chest as the ship takes them off herself, levers flipping and the rotor rising and falling with a gentle groan. “We don’t need it. Not anymore.”

 


End file.
